As a kid, living at home with my family, no matter where we were in the world (dad was an army officer), Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday. I have always been interested in cooking and my mom was a very good cook; she was also a good teacher, and Thanksgiving was the crowing culinary event of the year. Mom put on a spectacular spread that filled the dining room table with dishes like no other time of the year. I cannot help but think of this quote to describe my mood as the holiday approached, “and visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.”
The headliner was always a roasted turkey, and mom knew how to keep it moist and tender. She also made a killer cornbread dressing, and perhaps the best of all was the gravy she made that pulled everything together. Sometimes, she also made a ham, covered in pineapple rings, and very good too, but to me, no competition to the turkey and accoutrements. What a meal.
Mom was raised in small town Mississippi, in an age when everyone had gardens, so the side dishes that filled out this meal were country cooking classics; mashed potatoes and gravy, and sometimes sweet potatoes too (always Vardaman sweet potatoes, the sweetest in the world). Cornbread sliced open and covered in butter was also a must. Collard greens of course, simmered in ham stock, field peas, black eyed peas, lima beans, with spicy chow chow (tomato chutney to some) to go on top.
We always started the meal with tall glasses of sweetened ice tea, and ended it with an array of sweet desserts. My favorites were lemon pie with a meringue topping, banana pudding and, if there was no other choice, chocolate cake with ice cream.
Back in those days, meals were not as informal as they are today. For supper every evening I was required to wash my hands and face and have on clean clothes, and joining in on the family conversation was a requirement. No one could sit in their chair and say nothing. Thanksgiving was even more formal, requiring my best pair of slacks, a collared shirt, socks and shiny shoes.
Again, depending on where dad was stationed, it was a family meal, and any and all cousins, uncles and aunts that were nearby were conjoined to join us. It was always a full table.
I loved being together with the family, and I loved the abundance of really good food, but what made the food so good was that I knew that my mother had made it for me. That’s the true definition of food made with love.
In my later years, when I was a small fry in the corporate world and was transferred from business to business, sometimes once a year, my Thanksgiving was often a TV dinner of turkey, stuffing and gravy. It was a sad substitute for the family meals of my youth, but I was normally so tired from working the long holiday hours that the TV dinner was quickly followed by as much sleep as I could muster.
So, besides wishing you a great Thanksgiving, I want to remind you that it is a family holiday. Take advantage of it. Share with friends and neighbors, and if possible, with those in need. Most importantly, be thankful for what you have!